What Makes It Great
by etraytin
Summary: A week into Donna's stay in Germany, Josh helps take her mind off things with a favorite movie. Slightly alternate universe, sequel to "Timing, Degree and Conviction."


Author's Note: Here's another one of my "Never Have I Ever" prompts, where somebody tosses up a trope and I either point to an example of where I've written it, or write it. This one is for the trope "Movie night." Technically this is an almost immediate sequel to the alternate timeline presented in "Timing, Degree and Conviction," and is also an answer to the people who left feedback saying they'd like more in this universe. If you want to read it cold, all you need to know is that Josh became aware of his feelings for Donna before Gaza (with some help from CJ), and the two of them have confessed their feelings for one another. Self-indulgent and fluffy, I hope you enjoy reading it like I enjoyed writing it. Feedback is always encouraging!

…...

The good thing about being in a military hospital, (well, one of the good things) was that it was easy to find a secure phone line when one was needed. That ability, along with the high speed internet, was really the only way Josh had been able to parlay his helter-skelter race across the Atlantic into a sort of working vacation. Well, that and the fact he'd been able to convince Leo of his sincerity that he would resign rather than fly home before he was absolutely sure Donna was out of the woods. Josh was sure there was a painful conversation coming up when he got back to the States, but for now it had gotten him what he wanted, more time. Even if that time did entail two-hour transatlantic conference calls more often than he'd like. By the time he hung up the phone on this one, his ear felt as though it had swelled to twice its normal size, and he was desperate to get back to the sixth floor.

Donna had been moved into a different room once she'd left intensive care, similar to the first but on a corner so there were windows on two walls. Tonight she'd made it as far as the armchair set between the windows, about four feet from the bed, where she was resting with her mostly-immobile leg propped up. Her eyes were closed and she was pale and sweaty. Physical therapy, he remembered. Keeping his tone deliberately light, he poured a cup of water and took it to her. "Looks like they let you out of bed again. How far'd you get this time?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him, and he had to resist the urge to flinch or flee. Watching Donna in pain was really not something he was good at. "Not far enough," she muttered, her voice rough. "They're trying to get me out into the hallway, but I just can't!" Her fists clenched on the chair's padded armrests. "My physical therapist is a sadist."

"They all are, I told you that years ago," he reminded her, dropping into the folding chair next to her seat. "But back then it was all, "just do your damn breathing exercises, Joshua, they're good for you." He picked up her still-clenched fist, brushed a kiss over the knuckles. "Sorry I couldn't be there."

Her hand uncurled just a little in his as she gave him a faint smile. "Probably better that you weren't," she admitted. "You get kind of hostile."

"What, me?" he asked, deliberately exaggerating his denial in the hopes of getting a laugh out of her. It worked, just a little. "I'm not hostile, I'm just assertive. And maybe a little bit loud sometimes. I have opinions, that doesn't make me hostile."

"You threatened to feed that nurse her blood pressure cuff," she reminded him with a sly little grin. "My mom almost had to take you out out of the room."

"She had it way too tight! She was obviously some kind of wacko sneaking in dressed as a nurse to try and steal state secrets," he maintained, still rubbing her hand lightly.

Her fingers gradually opened under his as she relaxed. "See, hostile," she grinned. "And bewigewent."

He smirked. "I'm glad you've joined me in my quest to never let CJ live that down."

"It only seems fair, since you're going to hear the story about your secret plan to fight inflation at your retirement party one day."

"And I'm sure you'll be the one telling it. Where's your mom?"

"I sent her out this time too, it was kind of a bad session." Donna closed her eyes again, tipped her head back against the chair. "Seeing her get upset just makes me feel worse, plus she hasn't gotten more than a few hours sleep since she got here. I made her go to the hotel and told her not to come back till breakfast time."

"At least you're not depriving her of the famous breakfast schnitzel," Josh quipped.

"God forbid. I told her to bring me some actual food when she comes back, I actually think I might feel like eating something by then."

"Good plan." Josh looked at his watch. "How long are you allowed to stay in the chair this time?"

"I should probably be getting back to bed," she admitted reluctantly. "But the bed is boring. I'm not really even tired." She rolled her eyes at the frankly skeptical look he gave her. "My body is tired, yeah, but my brain isn't. I'm not ready to go back to sleep."

"Yeah, it's not exactly scintillating in here-"

"There's that verbal SAT score I know and love."

"-but I did bring something to help pass the time. Did you know these televisions have DVD players attached?"

"Really?" Donna asked, her interest piqued. "You brought a movie?"

"No, I brought a puppet theater," he teased. "I did bring you a movie. Get into bed and I'll tell you which one."

Getting Donna back into bed was a surprisingly difficult and lengthy process given the short distance, but Josh was starting to get the hang of it after a few days. The worst part was that her leg was still so sensitive that any jarring was painful, but the entire process was nothing but a series of jarring maneuvers. By the time she was back in bed and propped up on the series of block and wedge shaped pillows that held her lower body in position, there were small tears in the corners of her squeezed-shut eyes. "You know," he reminded her quietly, "you could ask for more pain relief."

Donna shook her head. "I'm okay. They're still giving me some and I don't want to get dependent."

Josh understood that feeling well enough that he didn't argue, just passed her a tissue. After carefully wiping her eyes, Donna opened them and took a deep breath. "So, what's my movie?"

"Field of Dreams," Josh told her cheerfully, then laughed when she groaned. "It's a great movie."

"It's a baseball movie. About corn." She was in full pout mode now, arms folded and lower lip sticking out.

One of these days, he promised himself, he'd nibble that pouting lip, then kiss that look right off her face. Not tonight, though. They hadn't really had much chance to talk about the change in their relationship, other than that brief reiteration of their feelings when Donna had woken from surgery. Both of them seemed to sense that it would wait for a later time when they were both stronger. Instead of words they had small touches, subtle gestures, tiny intimacies that hadn't been allowed before, no matter how much the'd been desired. It was good enough for now.

He hefted the bag he'd brought instead. "Right, I forgot Wisconsin and Iowa are mortal enemies somehow. Let's see what else I've got. Hoosiers, The Replacements, Major League, The Natural..."

"Did you just grab every sports movie you could find?" she asked, disgusted.

"Don't look at me, they really seem to like sports movies around here. The English language collection is kind of limited," he told her. When he could no longer stand her looking disappointed, he folded and reached into the bag. "Oh, and this one," he added, handing it over.

"A League of Their Own!" Instantly the pout was erased, and even the pain seemed to take a backseat as Donna squealed with delight. "I love this one."

"Yeah, I know," he he told her smugly. "But you have to promise you're not going to quote the entire movie while we watch it." She made a sober "cross your heart" gesture. "And you should feel free to go to sleep," he added as he took the disc from her and put it into the machine. "I can always pause it for tomorrow."

"I'm not tired," she insisted. Josh lowered the lights in the room anyway, then came back to sit down in his chair next to the bed. He wished he could be closer to her, but her leg was much too sensitive for him to so much as sit on the edge of the bed. This would do for now. It was even better when her hand crept out to take his, their fingers interlinking as the FBI warning began to play. As the previews played, he tried to just savor the moment with the understanding of how close it had come to not happening at all. "Josh?"

"Mm-hmm?" he asked, turning to look at her as the opening credits rolled.

Donna smiled at him. "You know I'm gonna quote the entire movie, right?"

"Yeah." He heaved a put-upon sigh.

"Come on, there's no crying in baseball. No crying." She chuckled, then drew his hand up to rest it against her cheek.

"One of these days I'm going to pee in your sink and call it an homage," Josh threatened.

"Gross. Shh, it's starting." True to her word, Donna quoted most of the movie's memorable lines for the entire thirty minutes she was able to remain awake. She also kept holding his hand, so that by the time he tugged gently away from her limp grasp, his fingers were slightly numb. He paused the movie and turned off the television, dropping the room into near-darkness. Hospital rooms were never truly dark, he remembered that much very well.

Now would probably be an ideal time for him to go back to the hotel, to the room he'd barely set foot in except to shower and change clothes, but instead Josh slumped back down into the uncomfortable chair. He figured (he hoped) that there would come a time when he could let her out of his sight and not spend every moment thinking about that first awful sight of her empty hospital room and all that blood, but it wasn't going to be just yet. Besides, the pain made her sleep restless sometimes, and he didn't want her to wake alone. His back could take a little more abuse. Sliding his hand over hers once more, he closed his eyes and counted himself to sleep by the rhythm of her breaths.


End file.
